In My Life: The Fictitious Story of Sophia Lennon
by BirdofManyColors627
Summary: In the height of Beatlemania, one woman stands out among the rest to John Lennon. This is the fictitious tale of their love. Love Triumphs All
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

"John!" I cried out as a stout man carrying a book and gun aimed it at my beloved husband. Ignoring my screams, the man pulled the trigger and fired. As the one and only John Lennon turned to face me, I panicked and jumped across his body, shielding him. We locked frightened eyes as the bullet pierced my back four times.

"No! Phia!" he shouted, holding me tightly.

"John…" I managed to mutter softly.

Placing me on the stairs of our apartment, he ran after the bewildered maniac, pulling him down to the ground and beating him. A police officer rushed over to me and began asking questions. His words turned to gibberish as darkness consumed my vision. The last thing my ears could detect were the cries of my love. 


	2. Woman

**Hello! I know I didn't make an a/n in the prologue or whatever the hell that was, but Hi! My name is Sophia and this is my second fanfic. My first one is Across The Universe: A Wrinkle Back in Time, so if you like this, you may want to check that out as well! Without further adu, here is the official first chapter! Disclaimer: No.**

* * *

**John's POV**

There used to be a time in my life where I wouldn't even have to think about walking out of the damn door. Okay, maybe I did a little prepping here and there, but not a soul, besides the occasional school girl or tight old bat, even noticed me. Now, the second my foot hits the fucking pavement, there's a crowd of horny teenaged maniacs waiting to kidnap me or any of the fellows. There are days when I wonder why we decided to live this life, and then I remember all the time spent with my lads building our musical careers. Wouldn't want that to go to waste, ay?

Cool, fresh air hit my disguised face. Today I had decided on a goatee with an early 1900's mustache, covering my head in a Charlie Chaplin like cap. The boys followed me closely, like a pack of dogs looking for prey. Only instead of being the hunters, we were the hunted.

"What's the matter John, luv?" George's hushed voice asks.

Looking over at him, I smirk and say, "I'm surrounded by a bunch of uglies, that's what."

We all crack up and walk down the dark New York streets.

"Wonder if there'll be any girls tonight." Paul states absentmindedly, checking out a club.

"Girls?" Ringo looks up from the ground and grins like mad man.

After another laugh, I get bored and start kicking around a bottle. Ringo shouts, "I'M OPEN, I'M OPEN!" Passing it to George, we begin a game of Monkey in the Middle with our favorite monkey.

"Cmon, lads, lemme kick it!" Rings wines loudly.

"Ah, give the poor soul a break, e's already got that 'uge thing on 'is face." Paul jokes as Ringo gives him a death glare.

Suddenly, Brian is running towards us.

"What do you think you are doing? Get back to the hotel!" He pants loudly.

"Fine, ya bloody arse." I mutter under my breath.

"What was that, Lennon?" he snaps back.

"Nothing, Brian, just saying how wonderfully Jewy you look today!" I say in my best girl voice.

The boys howl with laughter while Brian stares me down. As we walk back to whatever the fuck the place was called, I spot a flash of coppery hair against pale skin. Stopping in my tracks, this enchanting creature swivels in my direction. I can't help but stare at her unique appearance. Her face turns to confusion then to fear as she notices me staring intently at her.

"Can I help you… sir?" she asks in an accent I have never heard before.

"I'm sorry, young lady, but we were just leaving." Brian says as he grabs my arm.

"Brian, shove off, I'll get back by myself." I growl, scaring him slightly.

Nodding his head, he takes the other three away while they give whistle and wag their eyebrows at this new girl.

"You are not from here, are you?" she asks once more, electric blue eyes finding mine.

"Could say the same for you, sweet cheeks." I say, gazing at her scattered freckles.

She lets out a tiny little laugh, nodding at my acknowledgement of her strange accent.

"Yes, you could. I am from a far away land, indeed." Her black coated eyelashes flutter at me.

"Where is this mystical land that such beauties as you hail from?" I lean in closer to her, smelling her sweet perfume.

"Well thank you, sir. I am from Israel. I'd say you were from somewhere in the United Kingdom, am I correct?"

"You're good, Miss…" I began, wanting to know her name.

"Sophia."

"John." I say, extending my hand to cup hers.

There is a moment when she seems to stare into my soul, reading me like a book. For a second, all my insecurities come to fruition and I start to back off.

"Alright then… I guess I'll be going then, luv. May I ask… for your… numer, milady?" I am usually not this nervous, but something about her makes the butterflies in my stomach go mad.

Beaming, she pulls out a note pad and scribbles down her telephone number. As we turn away from each other, I can't help but whisper her name.

_Sophia._

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed that. No, wait, tell me about it! Review please:) Please and thanks, peace n blessins!;)**


	3. I Want You SO Bad

**A/N Yes I am aware of all the conflict with her being Israeli and Israel only being around a decade old, but just pretend. It's fanfiction!;)**

**Disclaimer: Suck it.**

* * *

**Sophia's POV**

My journey to American was a complicated one. Long ago, at the very beginning of my life, before we even moved from Russia to the new state of Israel, I had been a מספר (m'saper) or a storyteller. Ever since my mouth could form words, I would tell tales that I had been told or even make up my own. In school, I would write constantly, creating new worlds in my head. After graduating from what American's call high school, I searched for a university with my interests. My parents never understood my urge to be an author, thinking it was a hobby, not a career. After a couple of years at an Israeli college, I made a decision that would affect everything. One of my friends, Eran, told me of a place where his brother lived called New York City. Now, all of us had heard of NYC, but I had never left the country. Eran told me that if I truly wanted to, I could pack my bags and go stay with his brother, Asaf. After much pondering, my mind was set. I packed the little belongings I had and he bought me a ticket to this magical land. The last thing I ever wrote in Israel was the letter saying farewell to my parents.

אמא_, _אבא_,_

_._שתבינו מקווה ואני מאוד_, _אותך אוהבת אני _._שם יתגשם סופרת להיות שלי החלומות _._אמריקה את היום עוזב אני

אהבה הרבה_,_

סופיה

_(Mom, Dad, I leave for America. My dream to be a writer comes there. I love you very much, and I hope you understand._

_Much love, Sophia)_

Writing those lines were the hardest thing I had ever done. The tears trickled down my face as I left it on their door step.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow." I spoke as I entered the small plane, looking upon the beautiful land I had known all my life.

**Months Later**

Notepad in hand, I rush to work at my job as a small time journalist at a not very well known newspaper. Despite the slowness of my success, I enjoy living in this country with my now boyfriend, Asaf. Love came quickly to us, but it was not true love, like in the fairy tales. I knew that one day, it would pass.

As I fumble with my things, I spot four strangely dressed men playing the street like children. A short man runs like the wind towards them, scolding them. One in an odd, fake looking moustache makes a joke, causing the others to laugh and the short man to glare at him. Chuckling at their ridiculousness, the one who made the joke looks at me with light brown eyes. They glisten like milk chocolate, which makes me hungry. I look away, as to not stare, but I cannot help looking back. As I realize that he is staring directly at me, I turn afraid, for he is considerably taller and stronger looking than myself. In my day dreaming, he approaches me.

"Can I help you… sir?" I ask, eyeing him up and down.

Suddenly, the short man tries to grab him, only to be shoved away. The tall one with shaggy long brown hair says something so quickly I cannot understand. The short man nods, fear in his eyes and drags the other boys away. One with a rather large nose whistles at me, making the others join in. With the flick of his hand, the tall one silences them.

"You are not from here, are you?" I ask, listening to the others chatter in what seems to be some dialect of a British accent.

Those curious brown colored eyes look into mine, thin lips opening to speak.

"Could say the same for you, sweet cheeks." His voice makes my heart swoon and my stomach do acrobatics. I laugh in order to keep the air between us fresh.

"Yes, you could. I am from a far away land, indeed." The thought of Israel pains me, so instead I casually flirt with him.

"Where is this mystical land that such beauties as you hail from?" he charms, winking and leaning towards me.

"Well thank you, sir. I am from Israel. I'd say you were from somewhere in the United Kingdom, am I correct?"

With a spark in his gorgeous eyes, he mutters, "You're good, Miss…"

"Sophia." I say, wanting to stay in his gaze forever.

"John."

As we turn, he asks for my telephone number. Quickly pulling my notepad, I jot down my number, hoping that one day, I will hear his haunting voice once more.

As we leave each other, I feel an electric current run through my body.

I must see this boy again.

**John's POV**

I could not help myself. As soon as Sophia left, I began following her. Not in a creepy manor, but something about this mysterious woman intrigued me. Also, one of my favorite past-times is pissing Brian off. Making sure to cover myself, I watch as she stops, looks around at the world around her, and then begins to jot something down in that notepad of hers. I observe this for awhile until the all too familiar voice of Paul McCartney sounds behind me.

"Whacha doin, Johnny boy?" he asks, breathe against my ear.

"Wut the fook, Paul? Can't cha see I'm busy? And don't call me that!" I whisper, hushing my loud friend.

"Busy?," he says, hazel eyes going to the small little fire headed woman writing her thoughts in her notepad, "If by busy, you mean stalking."

I shove him gently, not wanting to attract any attention.

"Did I ask you, Macca?" I snarl, walking away from Paul.

"No, luv, but it's quite obvious." He giggles.

"Paul," I state seriously, "Leave me be."

Noticing my serious state, his eyes turn to sympathy.

"She's just a girl, mate."

Continuing my quest, I look at him.

"She's something special, I just know it."

* * *

**Please review and check out my other story Across The Universe: A Wrinkle Back in Time:) Thank yall! heartheart**


End file.
